@warwaged liked for a thing ( aegon )
the scrape was long, and thin, and seemingly shallow - it did not continue to bleed, if it ever had - but the sight of the torn skin just below her son's cheekbone did not quite halt her breath, but made the space that it had to pass through uncomfortably narrow, and with each inhalation the sensation dragged down her throat, pulled in, and in, as if she had swallowed a rock, and it was solid stone knotting at its base, and not a sudden well of worried emotion. she would have been informed, surely, if something more then a mere mishap in the training yards had occurred. an accident, that was all that this likely was.. and yet. she did not know. and yet, even still, to see it pained.
her thumb settles on the boy's chin, forefinger hooking just underneath, the queen's touch ever gentle as she tilts it up, and to the side, left hand raising to rest lightly upon the uninjured side ( the purpose threefold; to stabillize the boy's head so she might see it closer, to comfort, and to reassure that she was not angry, not right now, not ever - really, merely concerned and stern when it called. but never did she speak to either of her children in anger ) as she inspects the wound upon the boy's cheek, lips pursing; black brows bowing inward, and then tugging together. had he fallen ? it did not look to be the cut of any sort of blade. and if so, from what ? she did not see any other injury present on his face, but that did not speak for elsewhere. or any that could have existed inside of him.
" have you been to see the maester yet ? " the words are quiet and even, patient, open - wanting the truth from her son, even if the answer was no, " or was the wound not quite so severe that it necessitated that ? " perhaps it merely looked more alarming then it was. she could not allow herself to believe that until until she knew the source of the scrape, " was it the training yard, aegon ? your master at arms had said you would not be training with live steel for a moon's turn yet. has something changed ? " or had the boy himself decided that it must, and had chosen to take up steel before his teacher had deemed it time. if he had, then why ? what reason could there be for rushing things ?
" or was it something else, entirely ? " the fingers of her right hand leave his chin, and her hand returns to her side, though her left remains as she speaks, " you need not tell me, if you do not feel comfortable to. only tell me that if you have not been seen to, and you need to be, you will, and i shall be content, " her thumb brushes length wise the line beneath his cheekbone, back and forth, a tender gesture as the furrow between her brow smoothes, and then looks as if it intended to grow anew with the fleeting tug in of her eyebrows as she says, " just know that i will not be angry with you, whatever you may chose. "
